


The Silent Bells Ring For You

by Melowen



Series: Dim Light [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Main timeline but in the future, Modern Era Azeroth, Regret, Their relationship is open for interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melowen/pseuds/Melowen
Summary: Two thousand years after the Fourth War, Wrathion unintentionally returns to Stormwind once more.This is a short side-story to my Dim Light series, however being familiar with that is not necessary to read this. It works as a standalone as well. Enjoy!
Relationships: Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Dim Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761211
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	The Silent Bells Ring For You

**Author's Note:**

> So uhm... first of all, I'm not a native English speaker, so please go easy on me :)
> 
> Second, I wrote this during BfA and after the Shadowlands reveal, so if some major character dies in Shadowlands (or later) who is alive in this story, that's why.

An unusually quiet day dawned upon Stormwind. Way too quiet. The kind of silence fell on the city that had always annoyed Wrathion. The noises of the otherwise bustling streets did not overwhelm the disturbing thoughts lurking in people’s minds, forcing them to face them. Even the sky was clearer than usual. The black dragon sniffed deeply from the still pungent air of the summer morning. He felt it filling his soot-black lungs and then slowly spreaded throughout his body, bringing with itself a pleasant tingling sensation. But the emotion, as it came, vanished in a blink of an eye, like human life.  
  
Wrathion glared down disinterestedly from the top of a giant skyscraper. He thought it would be an ideal place to rest from his long journey, but he was almost immediately proved wrong. Like a proud diamond, the horizon was adorned by Stormwind Keep. The blue-and-gold curtains were drawn away one after another by the servants, signaling to the cizitens that the royal family had woken up. Soon, a solemn trumpet's sound could be heard from the court as the Royal Bodyguards lined up for their morning march. The black dragon turned his gaze with disgust. Such is his luck. He visits the city for the first time in several centuries and immediately stumbles upon what he least wanted to. He wanted to avoid anything that might have reminded him of those puppets inside the Keep. But to be conscious of wanting to avoid the place only brought the thoughts he wanted to surpress in himself to the forefront.   
  
How many times had he tried to sort out his thoughts? And how many times did he end up escaping into empty acts rather than confronting his feelings? He had lost count through the centuries. The red eyes uneasily scanned the streets below. Finally, his gaze settled on a fancy-looking coffe shop. The waiters had already carried the tables and chairs outside to the terrace. It promised to be a good place for a delicious breakfast. Wrathion stood up, then casually walked to the edge of the building and then stepped down without fear. He could never get enough of the uplifting feeling of freefall. They way the wind grabbed into every inch of his body, as if it desperately tried to slow his fall, in vain. When he was close enough to the surface, the man switched into his dragon form for a moment, slowing his speed, then turned back to his human shape. He hit the ground as lightly and gracefully as if he had just stepped lower by one on a staircase. A couple of unfortunate passersby watched the scene in terror, but the dragon elegantly walked straight to the café, ignoring them.  
  
Before long, he was already enjoying his poppy seed cake and the black coffee at one of the outdoor tables.  
  
"Oh my, most excellent!" he remarked with pleasure as he unfolded the daily newspaper lying on the table. Ah, how peaceful is it here.. It's almost... As it used to be...  
  
A curious summer breeze swept across the street, bringing painfully familiar scents with itself. Peony and summer organ... Wrathion's heart sank from the memories. How many times had they walked in the castle's garden, inhaling deeply from the scent cavalcade? The black dragon looked up heartbroken from the newspaper. The sight of the empty chair facing him had never been so hurtful. Although it had happened such a long time ago... nearly two thousand years... That he ran away.  
Wrathion shook his head irritably, hoping he could chase away the thoughts haunting him, but they were like a stain of carbon, stubbornly clinging into his mind. They had been trying to take over his consciousness for so long, and fate played dirty on that day that he had to take a break from his flight right there... Visiting the city proved to be the last straw, undermining the last bastions of his weakened defiance. The wind rose again, blowing away the man's last resistance.  
  
"My dear friend..." Wrathion tilted his head in the palms of his hands, letting the memories storm across his mind, and slowly a long-unseen face began to emerge before his spiritual eyes. It was a bittersweet feeling to think back to the days they spent together. The only person he really considered as a friend. No, to the only person he ever cared for.  
As Neltharion's child, a doomed fate awaited him. He was persecuted, wanted to be dead before he was even born, giving him no chance to life. To prove himself or to atone for his father's sins. Azeroth turned away from him as one man. Except for a single person. Anduin Wrynn. The prince, still just a spring chicken at the time was the only one who saw more in him than a cursed existence. Trust is a dangerous poison. It is enough to taste it once and anyone becomes addicted to it. A feeling that once an individual experiences, they no longer want to give it up. Anduin gave him that. Trust and friendship. He made him more than a crazy dragon's bastard offspring. He raised him up. Even if he put Anduin's faith to the test over and over again. An extraordinary man like him hasn’t been born since, and maybe never will. Even if so, what's the point of finding them? They would just disappear from his life in the same manner as Anduin...  
  
Wrathion folded the newspaper and threw it in the trash as he turned into a narrow street. However, along with the paper, he couldn’t throw away the thoughts that he desperately tried to suppress. They stayed with him and accompanied the dragon along his path like a malevolent toxic cloud. It was obvious he had opened a tap which led memories of the past poured upon him with such force that he could no longer clog it.  
  
The days spent together in the castle... reading in the library... in later years catching the kids in the garden... Long conversations in the evenings, about philosophy, theology ... or whatever came to their minds... Then, slowly, not even realising, everything was over...  
  
The moment he saw the first gray hair among Anduin's blond locks were still vivid in his memory. It could barely be seen, it mingled into the man's golden mane, yet, right then, he was seized by a dread hat has never gone away. Then more signs began to show... Wrinkles appeared one by one on the young, cheerful face. Although his kind, sincere smile did not fade, his eyes no longer shone the old way. He had to keep glasses in front of his eyes more often to be able to read the reports. Soon his embrace was not as strong either as it used to be. In front of his eyes, the once-so-vibrant body began to wither away. A disease attacked his beloved Anduin that had no antidote: Aging. With each new symptom, Wrathion's stomach twitched. In the end, he could no longer stand idle as his friend grew weaker by every passing day. For months he tried to convince Nozdormu to make an exception and release Anduin from the curse of time, but the answer always remained the same: There is nothing he can do, it is the circle of life.  
  
He returned to Stormwind disheartened, but what awaited him there he did not know the words for before: Despair. Anduin grew older, and Wrathion had to realize that with his pointless mission, he had wasted what little had remained from their time...  
  
The dragon still remembered how he begged the man to draw power from the Light, rejuvenating himself, but Anduin always reassured him that everything would be fine. Even when he no longer had the strength to get out of bed alone. Wrathion initially supported his weakening friend with boundless devotion, but as Anduin's condition deteriorated rapidly, so did the dragon's spirits. Then... one day something broke inside of him...  
  
"Where are you going?" Anduin asked him when he saw the dragon leaving angrily.  
  
"Away." he replied.  
  
"All right. I'll be waiting for you here!" he said as he smiled weakly at him from his bed, not suspecting that these would be their last words to each other.  
  
What was he thinking? That if he just ignores it long enough, it won't happen? That Anduin will live? Whatever he thought back then, it was too late to make it right. For the next few hundred years he lonely walked the countryside of Azeroth. In his own mind, in order to reveal a possible danger to Azeroth in time, in truth, he tried to escape from himself, in vain.  
  
Was Anduin angry that he hadn't been by his side in the last hours of his life? Maybe he came to hate him? He never got to know the answer, but he wished it was otherwise, because then maybe he would have known something other than the unbearable guilt in his heart.  
  
But it was too late. Anduin was undoubtedly dead. The throne was inherited by his son and then followed by his own children. Then, about two centuries ago, a bloody civil war raged over the country, resulting in the rights of the royal family being confiscated. Slowly, they lost all power and remained only symbolic leaders of the nation. They became puppets, nothing more in Wrathion's eyes...  
  
He didn't even notice that his path led to the former Old Town. He looked straight at Stormwind Keep from the bridge over the canal. The building has been rebuilt at least three times since he left. Its windows were widened, the façade got insulated on the outside and painted white. There was no sign of the statue of Varian Wrynn in front of the entrance, it got lost to the shadows of history. In its place stood a cast steel lion, his mouth wide open, revealing that the sculptor had forgotten to shape his tongue.  
  
Wrathion spat bitterly into the canal's water. These people forget so quickly... that's why they don't respect anything. He never understood why they felt a peculiar urge to demolish everything their predecessors had built with painstaking work from time to time, just to rebuild them later.  
  
'I wonder... have you too, had a statue that they destroyed?" he pondered, looking at the castle. Suddenly, a painful but irresistible idea seeped into his mind. "Is there a gravesite somewhere for you, my friend?"

~

The old cathedral stood just as glorious as it was back then, though it was dwarfed by the newer buildings that surrounded it. There was a brochure stand at the entrance, and the opening hours at the huge gate, letting visitors know that the cathedral could be visited free of charge every day from 09:00 to 18:00, including the old cemetery behind the building and the resting place of the royal family.  
  
Wrathion quickly found what he was looking for... A marble tombstone with his dear Anduin's name. Most likely a replacement as the original probably got destroyed through the years... It was cold and impersonal. What did he hope for? Did he honestly belive that anything would change by coming here? He couldn't have hidden his frustration even if he had wanted to. He clenched his fists and felt as his temper slowly took over. He wished he could crush that damned stone into small pieces to make it disappear. Then the anger vanished and was replaced by a feeling of helplessness... The overwhelming desire to talk to his old friend just once more, but he knew that he would never get a response, no matter how long he waited... Still, he was desperate to say something...  
  
"That's just a body." A thin, meek voice tore Wrathion out of his thoughts. He turned his gaze toward the sound. Not far from him a little boy was sitting on a bench with hazelnut hair, about eleven years old. He looked small and fragile. He wore an old fashioned suspender, and his white shirt glistened spotlessly in the light of the scorching sun. His blue eyes, as clear as a moonwell, looked straight at him.  
  
"How do you say?" The dragon asked back in surprise.  
  
"Your friend isn't there. It's just an empty shell." The child repeated, looking up at the sky. Wrathion turned back to the monument in confusion. He slowly regained his composure. Although it bothered him that someone had disturbed his visit, the youngling's words still had a sobering effect on him.  
  
"You're right." He turned to the boy. He looked back at him, then jumped off the bench and walked over to the man. He took a look at the grave and then turned to Wrathion.  
  
"You're a dragon, aren't you?" he asked with an unusual innocent look.  
  
"Well, well, you're a great observer." He said, barely making any attempt at hiding his cynicism. "How did you know?"   
  
"Your eyes gave it away. I learned about dragons." the boy smiled shyly.  
  
"Strange thing to be taught in school these days. I thought something like this had long been taken out of the curriculum to squeeze in more useful lessons like what kind of sediment is in Darrowmere Lake.  
  
The young man's eyes fell.  
  
"I'm home studying."  
  
Wrathion bit his lip. He was tactless, though how many times Anduin had reminded him to be more attentive. It's was the middle of the day, school time. He should have figured out what was going on...  
  
" I see... I'm sorry." he said, but the boy shook his head and smiled at him again.  
  
"It's okay, it happens. But..." he began. "Can I be a little tactless too in return?" he asked with angelic innocence. The dragon chuckled. What an eccentric kid. He knows he's dealing with a dragon, yet he pushes his luck. Well, so be it.  
  
"Just a little." he pointed, his fingers clenched.  
  
"This individual has been dead for quite a while. Yet you stood here as if the experience was fresh for you." Wrathion's stomach tightened. He couldn't hide his shock. "Oh, I'm sorry, I went too far." the child turned back to the grave.  
  
"No... You're right. You know, I once knew this man. In spite of that, this is the first time I have come to pay my final respect." His interlocutor looked at him, but remained silent. His gaze said more than any word could. The light of boundless kindness and understanding gleamed in his eyes, but behind them hid a childish curiosity. Wrathion sighed deeply and continued. "I did something very wrong before he died." he already bit the last sounds. His throat tightened as the image of his dying friend emerged from the depths of his memory. The old, trembling hand, the almost blind eyes... He should have squeezed that hand, and he should have looked deep into those eyes and said he would always be by his side. Instead, he fled like a coward, leaving behind who was most important to him. "I wasn't there when he needed me the most. Just because I couldn’t face what was to come. He must have been mad at me."  
  
"Why would have he been angry? If he was your friend, he must have understood how difficult it was for you."  
  
Wrathion snorted painfully.  
  
"It's baseless specualtion on your part. Kind words, nothing more."  
  
"No." he said as he touched the dragon's arm gently. "I know it's true."  
  
He approached him with the understanding and kindness as Anduin would have done. For a moment, Wrathion seemed to recognise his friend's gaze in the child's figure. But the moment was over. A middle-aged man, dressed in uniform from head to toe, bursted into the cemetery. He removed his carbine from his shoulder and pointed it straight at Wrathion.  
  
"Stop, don't move!" he shouted. The dragon looked at the man contemptuously, but before he could question him for his reason to dare to attack him, his companion stepped between them.  
  
"Pawel, there's no need for that." he pleaded to the guard.  
  
"Prince Andras, move away." the man urged the boy, but intead of obeying, the youngling shedded his calm composure and growled at the attacker like a grown lion.  
  
"Pawel, I said drop your weapon." he shouted, then added more calmly, but without losing his determination. "You are offending my friend."  
  
Wrathion looked at the boy standing beside him. Did he just call him his friend? And that man called him a prince a moment ago, did he hear that right?  
  
"You know him?" the guard asked suspiciously.  
  
"That's just natural! This is Wrathion, the black dragon. He is a friend of the Wrynn family."  
  
The dragon looked at the little boy puzzled. He knew who he was all along? The guard gave the man a disapproving look, then lowered his carbine.  
  
"I see. However, I have orders to escort you home. Your father wants to see you."  
  
Andras nodded gently, indicating that he understood the request.  
  
"All right. I just need one more minute." he turned to Wrathion again. "I'm sorry, I think I did not get the chance to formally introduce myself. It was an indecent on my part. My name is Andras Wrynn, I am the crown prince.   
  
Wrathion listened in shock to the boy's words. It all began to make sense now.  
  
"Well, I'd like to introduce myself as well, but as it turns out, it's unnecessary."  
  
"Will we meet again?" the child looked at him hopefully.  
  
"Definitely. I’m the kind of black dragon who learns from the mistakes of the past." he winked at the boy, who in return smiled at him.  
  
"It was nice to meet you." he offered his hand. Wrathion smiled faintly and squeezed Andras' hand. "You see, I know one more thing." he said unexpectedly.  
  
"Really? I wonder what is could be. Out with it, buddy."  
  
"Anduin Wrynn's will."  
  
"What do you say?" the dragon gasped.  
  
"His last wish was that if anybody sees Wrathion, the black dragon ever again, tell him something very important on his behalf. So please, let me deliver his message: Welcome home, Wrathion!"  
  
These words, like a blessing, permeated the impierceable cloud of guilt that had weighted his heart, dispelling the repentance that had been poisoning his soul for so long. His red eyes slowly filled with tears as he began to understand the meaning of these words. Andras was right. Anduin was not angry at him. He was foolish to assume that even for a moment... And his beloved friend tried his best until his last breath to make Wrathion understand. This message was his redemption.  
  
The little boy let go of the man's hand and waved goodbye to the dragon with an angelic smile on his face, then let the guard escort him back to the castle. Wrathion watched with boundless gratitude in his heart as the prince disappeared behind the huge door of the cathedral.  
  
"Anduin... my dear friend... I can't apologize. Instead, I thank you. Thank you that you accepted me, loved me and even when I falied you, you still tried to save me from my endless penance. Thank you for passing down the boundless kindness that you were, through your descendants.  
  
And Andras... I thank you for inheriting his values, his ideas, and through you, my friend's legacy lives on.   
  
I will never abandon you again, I promise."


End file.
